


Beauty and the Beast

by penlex



Series: little cuts [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: (not correct references but still), Ballroom Dancing, Formalwear, Gen, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Loki (Marvel), Implied/Referenced Transphobia, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Loki (Marvel) Does What SHE Wants, Platonic Relationships, Political Parties, Pranks and Practical Jokes, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Shapeshifting, Sibling Rivalry, changing pronouns, or rather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 10:50:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16973196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penlex/pseuds/penlex
Summary: Loki steals Thor's formal wear before an important political ball to shift their parents' negative attention.





	Beauty and the Beast

Loki hasn't been feeling like herself lately.

Well, no that's not exactly true, is it?

Loki hasn't been feeling like _him_ self lately. Mostly because she's not himself lately.

Her parents don't forbid her from wearing the most comfortable shape around the palace, though often Father seems uneasy with it. If she didn't know any better Loki might say her not infrequent shape shifting made him nervous. She can't imagine why that would be though - she's a young lady now and she hasn't gotten herself stuck in any form in a hundred years or more - so she puts the absurd notion out of her mind.

Such as it is that Loki has been herself for several weeks now, all the while steadfastly ignoring the cautious looks her father casts her when he thinks her beyond noticing. She hasn't been herself for this long ever before, but who is she to question the spiritual whims of the Goddess of Chaos? So she only lets her body be as it is and doesn't think on it any further.

But now the decennial banquet ball with their allies the Vanir is rapidly approaching, and as that date draws ever nearer Father's nervous looks so too become nervouser and nervouser, and before long even Mother seems discomfitted. Neither of them say anything, but Loki can tell they would strongly prefer if she would put his skin back on before their guests arrive and she embarrasses them with her changeling ways.

She doesn't want to do that, even if being herself will cause a scene. It's _exhausting_ to force herself into a shape that she isn't. Loki doesn't think her parents understand that, though. They think she just changes for fun or out of idle preference. If Loki doesn't put his skin back on for the party, they'll think she's being rebellious and since rebellion is hardly befitting of a Prince she'll be punished (again).

Then again... Loki isn't the only Prince around here, is she?

She doesn't particularly need to sneak around to pull one over on Thor, but she likes the thrill of being stealthy so she does it anyway. She hides in the long shadows of the pillars all down the corridor outside of Thor's rooms and waits impatiently for him to clear out. When the morning sun first starts to become the afternoon sun Thor finally leaves his quarters, wearing naught but a wrinkled tunic and a pair of pale breeches. It's no wonder their parents have offered so many times to get him a stylist, but he's turned them down every time.

As Thor turns away from his door, Loki slips inside right behind him with only the faintest brush of air. The closer the call, the better the rush.

Inside Thor's rooms is messier than it should be, as per the decree of their patents, but neater than it could. There are books and weapons nigh everywhere and a dirty mug upon the desk in the front room. But there also is the fresh scent of peppermint and a potted plant that still yet lives.

Loki wanders about the wing, pondering wispy ideas of how to redirect any parental ire at the banquet from her onto Thor. She supposes she could put a hex bag under his pillow and make him oversleep, or itch, or speak his every thought (not that the last would take very much magic to accomplish). But the ball is still three nights away, and there is too great a risk that Thor would find the bag in time and confront Loki.

Loki passes through Thor's bedroom and into his first closet, where there is a small pile of dirty clothes on the floor. She runs one hand along her brother's hangers and drawers, but thinks of nothing to do. She continues on to the second closet.

Where the last was filled with Thor's most often worn articles and shoes, this room contains outfits for more specific use. On the hangers to the left are his nice clothes for dates or family dinners, and on the right are his light armor sets. In the drawers on either side, Loki knows without looking are Thor's more athletic clothing for sparring or competitions. Loki's own rooms are arranged the same way.

Beyond the second closet is the third. In this room there are only five ensembles and they all hang. One is Thor's complete battle armor, which is connected to Mjolnir and can be summoned with it. The other four are formal wear, each one finer and more ornate than the one before. The last one is equipped with a full fur cloak and a majestic winged circlet and shiny non-combat armor pieces. It is this outfit that Thor will be expected to wear to the ball.

Loki's mouth stretches wide in a grin. She has found what trick to play.

She reaches forward and takes a delicate hold of the outfit upon the hanger. She twists her wrist, graceful, and folds the whole glittering ensemble into the small pocket she made herself in the betweenworlds, held closed and contained by her very spirit. It was a very difficult spell, but once done it is done for good and it will remain with only the most minimal drain for as long as she lives and it will grow as she does.

Just to be thorough, Loki takes the next most formal outfit too. After all this will be for nothing and only have them _both_ in trouble if Thor's faux pas isn't greater than her own. Loki is confident that Thor won't notice the absence because he never comes into this room. It's only the palace's ambient magics that keep dust from collecting.

The three nights pass without Thor ever taking note of his missing clothing. Loki laughs giddily to herself in her mirror as she begins to apply her makeup for the banquet. Even if Thor in a state of improper dress doesn't allay their parents or the Vanir royal family from muttering on Loki's femininity, she will at least have succeeded in the scheme alone.

When Thor comes bursting into her room surrounded by his usual frenetic energy, Loki doubts her achievement for a moment. But then Thor's panicked eyes meet hers and she realizes he doesn't suspect her.

"Sister!" he yells out, vociferous as always. Thor has been easy with her in a way that their parents still have not managed, ever since she got it into his head that he would never understand and all his questions were irrelevant. He was angry at that at first, but eventually came to accept that she meant him no insult by it. Now he simply takes her as she appears unless otherwise instructed. "Please you must help me, my formal outfits are missing and I've not any ideas where they could have gone!"

Never could Loki have asked for better cues to play from.

"Take a deep breath, brother," Loki tells Thor calmly. She rises from her vanity chair and goes to him in her doorway, flattening one palm firmly against his chest to ground him. He is already wearing his own makeup, his eyelids a shining chrome when he blinks in unfocused anxiety down at her. "I will help you find it."

They search Thor's rooms high and low, tossing his belongings asunder. When they don't turn up and Thor grows both desperate and suspicious, they also search Loki's rooms, although she ensures that everything there is put back where it was. For good measure they check both of their guests' quarters, and then Thor's rooms again.

"Perhaps," Loki drawls, never one to turn down any opportunity, "the Lady Sif will know where they are."

Thor's face goes a delightful shade of red, and he does not respond.

Eventually, Thor turns Loki away.

"Go, don't be late," he insists. "Or else we'll both be in trouble." Loki goes back to her own rooms after only the most token of protests, and dresses in the correct finery. She uses magic to make it fit her body properly, and then spends a good long while admiring her reflection. But Thor is right that she mustn't be late, and so before long she heads toward the largest ballroom in the political wing of the palace.

Loki turns more than a few heads, Aesir and Vanir alike, when she makes her entrance. It's impossible to tell which are of judgement and which appreciation, so Loki ignores them all. Across the floor, she sees her parents whisper to each other. She ignores that too, though it takes more effort.

Soon Thor arrives, and the whole of the ballroom takes an audible gasp. Oh, he's dressed formally of course, and his makeup is still intact. But where Loki, Odin, and Frigga all are laden in embellished furs, decorative armor, and unique crowns, Thor wears only a full-necked blouse buttoned to his collar rather than his chin, a plain cloak held on with a delicate chain across his chest, high waisted black leathers, and dark unmarred boots. Handsome, yes, but woefully underdressed.

Frigga and Odin rush over to him, both with hard eyes and thin mouths, but they are too slow. King Njord and Queen Nerthus and their adolescent twins, Freyr and Freyja have already made their way over to be officially greeted family to family. Loki situates herself quickly at Thor's shoulder, so that with she on one side and their parents on the other his difference in dress is even more pronounced.

"Ah, Great Honored Guests," Odin says, turning to them after clearing his throat, strained. "I'm sure you remember our line. Crown Prince Thor," he gestures, "and Prince... ess Loki."

 _How clumsy,_ Loki thinks, gritting her teeth against sudden undue irritation. A king should speak more smoothly than that.

"You look very pretty, Princess," says Freyja, immune to the awkwardness. Loki smiles at her, her own tension incrementally relieved. Freyja has grown since the last time Loki saw her, the top of her head coming past Loki's chin now.

"Thank you, Princess." Loki offers her hand. "Would you like to dance?" Freyja takes Loki's hand with a shy grin and allows herself to be led away onto the floor. Odin's eyebrows pinch together, but Njord and Nerthus are smiling so nothing is said.

In short enough order, the Vanir King and Queen retire from the requisite schmoozing into their own dance. From her vantage point at the center of everything, Loki can see their parents begin to scold Thor. He is shame-faced and Loki almost feels for him.

Loki dances with many different people of many different genders, realizing with a soft joy that her parents need never have worried about it at all. She dances twice with King Njord himself, and when he parts from her the second time to go back to his beloved wife he gifts her with a coin bearing his seal and bids her tell her father that she might have her pick of any Vanir in royal marriage should she so choose.

"I am sometimes a man as well," Loki reminds him, just in case he might have forgotten. Her heart beats in her throat despite her confidence from observing his people that he will not scorn her for that.

"Yes, I know," he acknowledges. "And a fine leader you'll make as either."

Loki's last dance of the night, or the last dance before the meal and the drinking begin, is with her brother. The band has gone quieter and slower in preparation for their break, a cooling down number. Thor leads Loki by her waist with one hand, the other with fingertips pressed to hers held up at shoulder height. The eyes of their visitors follow them without subtlety.

"Well," Thor sighs wryly as they glide across the floor. Next to her in her finery, Thor looks a schmuck even despite all his grace. "At least one of us made a good impression."

"Yes," Loki agrees, and if her smile shows a few too many teeth... Well. She's just having a good time, that's all.

**Author's Note:**

> Me trying to decide on what allied realm to choose based on which people were most likely to enforce gender norms: Elves? Cleary no. Dwarves? Obviously not. :( but the Vanir are _artists_.
> 
> Just know that I firmly believe that out of all the allied realms Asgard is second in social rigidity only to we backward fucks on Midgard ourselves.
> 
> Come chill with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/penlex)!


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